


Softer

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Future Fic, Getting Together, Mama McClain, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), Prompt Fill, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:44:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: it’s my younger sibling's wedding and my mother won’t shut up about how i’m going to die alone





	Softer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everyperfectsummer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyperfectsummer/gifts).



> A big thank you to [everyperfectsummer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyperfectsummer/pseuds/everyperfectsummer/works?fandom_id=2282814) for getting me back in the swing of writing. Even if all you did was give me two random numbers, it was your initiative that got my butt into gear!
> 
> I love the Voltron ladies so much, is it any wonder I ended up shipping them? If this isn't your cup of tea, that no problem, that's what the back button is for! But if it is, or if you're at least intrigued by what you've read, please leave lovely kudos and comments. They're organic, ethically sourced writer food!

Veronica knows her mother means well. 

That hasn’t made her running commentary for the past several months, culminating in to this wonderful, magical, important evening, any less unbearable. 

“You know I just want your life to be as full as mine has been,  _ mija _ ,"  she says, soft, elegant hands with long, red-varnished nails reaching out to take one of Veronica’s own, calloused, nails blunt, clean, unpolished. “As full as Lance’s is.” 

Veronica glances over her shoulder at the makeshift dance floor at the far end of the Garrison’s mess hall. She watches her younger brother spin Allura under his arm, watches the sparkling white tulle of her dress and the pastel flowers braided through her hair catch the kaleidoscope of strobe lights dancing across the space. 

Lance smiles with his teeth and crinkles his eyes. He looks handsome. Dapper. An Altean headpiece rests atop his carefully coiffed hair, turquoise gem poised at the centre of his forehead to match his new bride’s. A symbol of his new command. 

King of Altea. 

Veronica withdraws her hand quickly from beneath her mother’s and blinks tears from her eyes. 

Her mother scrutinizes her. “I worry about you,” she says. 

“You don’t have to,” Veronica insists, and it’s shaky and wet but sincere. “I’m a big girl. I have you – my family – my friends, my command. I don’t need what Lance has for the sake of it.” 

Her mother tuts, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow. “I don’t want to see you die alone.” 

Veronica can’t help but chuckle at that. “I think we’re a long way off from that, yet,  _ mami _ ."

Standing, Veronica smooths the creases from her periwinkle bridesmaid gown and eyes the open bar longingly. 

“You’re abandoning me,” her mother cries, mirth in her tone as she brings the back of her hand to her head and feigns becoming faint. 

Veronica narrows her eyes. “Your dance with Lance is next, anyway.” 

And it’s true. Even as they speak, the music is coming to its crescendo, signalling the beginning of the end. Coran waits in the wings, handkerchief pressed to his eyes, to take a place in traditional Earth wedding custom Allura’s own father cannot. 

Her mother takes a breath, on the edge of her seat to say something else, but Veronica doesn’t give her the chance. She tucks a lock of thich, wavy hair behind her ear and sets off toward the bar, flats shuffling across unyielding concrete. 

She’s the only one waiting for service when she arrives, and asks the bartender to fix her a rum and cola. She thanks zir as ze slides the drink across the bartop and raises it to her mouth anxiously, taking a long, stiff drink. 

Immediately, her nostrils flare. 

“And you sounded so confident when you ordered it,” comes a teasing voice to her left, buttery smooth and leagues better than the drink her her hand. 

Veronica stares at her glass like it’s wronged her as she lowers it. “I keep forgetting the rum isn’t like it was before.” 

Before what, she doesn’t need to specify. An uncomfortable energy settles like a film on her skin, and Veronica straightens her shoulders before it can cement. She lets go of the glass, condensation beading under her fingers, and turns to look at the woman beside her at the bar. 

The low lighting does Acxa favours she doesn’t need, and Veronica feels her face warm more than can be explained away by the alcohol. Acxa’s taken well to human fashion. A well-tailored suit frames broad shoulders and narrow hips in a way that’s almost sinful, white dress shirt left open to the third button down, bow tie undone around her neck, leaving valleys and plains of pale blue skin on prominent display, contrasted against the deep navy of her pants and jacket. 

Raising a hand, Acxa signals for the bartender again, keeping her eyes on Veronica sidelong. “A whole world out there,” she muses. “Turns out intelligent life will ferment just about anything, anywhere.” 

She turns confidently to the barkeep and orders two of something Veronica holds no hope of repeating. Acxa watches zir make their drinks with scrutiny, and all the while, Veronica watches her, transfixed. When they seem completed to Acxa’s satisfaction, she thanks the bartender with a solemn nod ze noncommittally returns. 

Veronica stares as Acxa raises the drink to her lips and takes an appraising sip, throat working as she swallows, leaving Veronica’s own uncomfortably dry. 

“It’s good, I promise,” Acxa says, gesturing to Veronica’s glass when Veronica makes no move to raise it. A flush spreads across Veronica’s cheeks. She feels embarrassed, caught out, and downs half the drink in one go. 

Veronica sputters as the alien alcohol burns icy hot down her throat. It’s not unpleasant, cold and assertive in a way she’s never experienced from Earth alcohol, but it’s strong and catches her entirely unprepared. 

Acxa brings a warm, steadying hand to Veronica’s back and pats gently, coaxing her breathing steady. It doesn’t last long before the feeling of Acxa’s hand on the skin bared by her dress’ keyhole back steals her breath once more. Still, Veronica puts on her best show and waits for Acxa to retreat. 

“Are you alright?” Acxa asks, dark blue hair falling over her eye and tickling the skin of Veronica’s neck as she leans in close to be heard in a gentle, soothing whisper over the music. A part of Veronica realizes she’s missing Lance’s dance with their mother, but a greater part of her is alight under Acxa’s fingertips and reluctant to be conscious of anything else. 

“It’s cold,” Veronica replies lamely. 

Acxa chuckles, warm, sweet breath fanning across Veronica’s cheek. “I should have warned you,” she apologizes. 

Veronica doesn’t shrug for fear of dislodging her hand. “I probably would have tried to be tough anyway.” 

“You  _ are _ tough,” Acxa whispers, and Veronica’s ears pink. “I like that a lot about you, actually.” 

Veronica likes that about Acxa, too. Likes the works she does with Keith and the Blades, likes the way she teaches at the Garrison when she’s able, likes her combat skills and her agility and her fortitude and her humility. 

They never talk much, each busy living their own parallel lives, but when they do, it’s always like this – intimate and teasing and electric. Veronica wants to drag their stolen moments out forever, even as she tries and fails to place when the moments went from casual to stolen to begin with. 

“I hear you’re looking for a new instructor at the Garrison,” Acxa says, apropos of nothing. She’s drawn slightly out of Veronica’s space, but her hand is still on Veronica’s back. 

“Iverson’s finally abandoning his post at Fort I’m Never Going To Retire,” she jokes, then sips her drink again, slowly this time. It’s nice. Chilling. “Don’t suppose you know anyone in need of work?” 

Acxa shrugs. “I was thinking maybe me,” she replies. 

Veronica’s head snaps up. She looks at Acxa with wide, searching eyes, but Acxa remains inscrutable. “You’re not happy with the Blades?” she questions, before she can stop herself. 

“It’s not the Blades,” Acxa replies. “But the front lines, maybe. It’s a lot of instability. A lot of sacrifice. And it’s a penance I earned, after everything I’ve done. But I’m wondering if maybe now that chapter of my life is finally closed. Maybe I’ve finally balanced the scales and can move onto something, I don’t know–”

She turns up one corner of her mouth in a wary, wistful smile and glide her hand from between Veronica’s shoulder blades to tuck a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. 

“Softer,” she finishes. 

Veronica’s cheeks are pink, but she holds Acxa’s gaze with equal reverence. “A woman with your service record, I’m sure the job is yours, if you want it.” 

It’s not everything she wants to say, but for the time and place, it’s all she can offer. 

Acxa accepts with a tender smile. “I’ll put the pieces in motion, then,” she says. 

“Good,” Veronica replies. 

A thumb swipes gently across the corner of her jaw. 

“Good.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](www.asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com)!


End file.
